


A Dream For Right Now

by DCBrierton



Category: Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rebecca meets Valencia at camp, F/F, Friends to (maybe) lovers, Romantic Friendship, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-24 01:30:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8351008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DCBrierton/pseuds/DCBrierton
Summary: Valencia and Rebecca meet and make friends at camp. Then, years later, they meet again in New York. This time, Valencia knows a little more about what she wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mierke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mierke/gifts).



> Title from Nights Like These by The Shondes.

One day in her second week at Camp Canyon Grove, Valencia sighs and mechanically shovels disgusting potatoes into her mouth, glaring at that awkward girl from her cabin – Rebecca? – to make her stop staring. It’s creepy how everyone’s always looking at her. She thought theater camp would be great – dancing every day! guys who don’t want to sleep with her, because they’re gay! –  but in reality, it’s just the same as school. Except with dancing every day, which is pretty great. The girls still stare at her and gossip about her, and there’s still a pack of straight guys who she’s told about 3 million times that she has a boyfriend who is a hot California surfer, and who still follow her around everywhere. 

She’s not going out with Josh anymore, really, but just the thought of him still makes her feel a little better. If Josh were here, he’d act like he didn’t even understand what those guys were doing, and Valencia could tell herself that maybe he didn’t, maybe he did really like her because of the things she says and the way she dances, and not just because she’s objectively the hottest girl in school. 

Valencia reaches the end of her potatoes and stands up with relief. She can tell Rebecca is still trying to pretend she isn’t watching her every move, like she’s about to do something scandalous on her way to return her tray. She leaves the dining hall, relieved to get out from under everyone’s gaze for at least a few minutes before rehearsal starts. Actually, since she’s not a lead, she’s not even needed for the first scene. She probably has time to go wander around, maybe even down to the lake where she can be alone.

But on the other hand, if she goes all the way down to the lake, no one will know where she is. And there’s bound to be some dumb guy hiding in a corner, working on his stupid lines, who everyone will assume is with her, and who won’t hesitate to agree. There are still weeks of camp to go, and even though Valencia tells herself she really doesn’t care about any of these people’s opinions, she knows that getting a reputation will mean even fewer normal conversations and even more idiotic guys happening to find themselves wherever she is, like they think they’re being subtle. (They’re never actually subtle.) This camp is just one step in her master plan of becoming a professional dancer, but that’s not a reason to let her guard down. So instead of heading for the lake she makes her way to rehearsal, pretending the path through the woods is a Manhattan sidewalk and she’s on her way to rehearsal for a real show, not this juvenile attempt at an outdated musical.

* * *

Ten years later, Valencia’s struggling through the last remnants of her dancing dreams. She rolls over and slams her pillow down over her head as her roommate’s alarm goes off for what seems like five solid minutes. Kate’s teaching 6 am yoga this session, and as much as Valencia’s glad it’s not her having to get up at 4:30 to make it to the studio on time and ready to work, it’s almost worse to hear Kate’s alarm and not be able to do anything about it. Valencia’s certainly not going to be getting up in the dark; her own schedule is packed just to try to make rent on their shitty apartment, and she needs all the sleep she can get to prepare herself for what should be a full day of dancing at auditions. If the artistic director doesn’t drop her after the first group class, like happened last year with this company. Valencia tries to wash the thought out of her head by reminding herself that she can only control the present, but the disappointment of past failures is sticky and gross, like Kate’s section of the refrigerator. And there’s been a lot of disappointment for Valencia since she moved to New York.

Well, it’s only for another week, and then she’ll be done with all of it – Brooklyn hipsters asking her about the authenticity of her yoga practice, endless auditions for snotty dance companies that barely pay anyway, even worse Broadway auditions where she floats through the dance portion only to wash out at the song every fucking time, living with three other girls in a two bedroom apartment that’s not even close to anywhere that any of them work. Just one more audition today, and then packing up, teaching a few classes, and hopping a plane back to California. Valencia was mad Josh didn’t come to New York with her, at first, but now she’s just glad she doesn’t have to keep both of them afloat in this city. Yeah, she considered breaking things off with him in the move, and maybe she should have tried to find someone here with ambition to match hers. But she hasn’t had the energy to really throw herself into dating, much less the schedule, and Valencia hates to do anything by halves. 

And honestly, deep in her heart where she would never admit it to anyone, Valencia’s cherishing even the thought of West Covina. If she’d broken it off with Josh after all, maybe she wouldn’t, but the way things are? The thought of a place that slow-paced and relaxed, a place where you can work at the mall (if absolutely necessary) and still pay the rent on your own apartment, a place where you go places in your own sealed car and never have to brush up against creepy strangers on the disgusting train – even if it’s not the life she always imagined herself living, it’s an appealing contrast to the present. Appealing enough that when Valencia came to the end of her savings a month ago and realized she had to make a change, she barely hesitated over the decision to go back. Sure, she could stay in New York, cut down on auditions and pick up more classes. The studio owner loves her, obviously. But if she’s really going to teach yoga to bored housewives for a living, there’s no reason to live in squalor while she does so. At least in West Covina she’ll be able to afford boxed water. That’s a thought she can hold in her head while she drifts back to sleep, and she does.

* * *

Valencia’s on her way back to the subway, texting Kate to let her know that she was cut early and can teach her own afternoon classes today, when she hears someone call her name. She freezes automatically, before she remembers that people only get stopped by the casting director after leaving auditions in movies. In real life, if they want her, they’ll call her cell. She plasters a smile on her face anyway and turns around, assuming she’s about to have a brief, stilted conversation with one of her yoga students, or maybe another dancer who wants to “catch up,” meaning dig for gossip and make veiled comments about each other’s age and weight. 

The woman who shouted does look vaguely familiar, but Valencia can’t actually place her. She  takes a few more running steps to close the gap between them, then waves her hands around a little like she’s trying to convey something that she doesn’t have the words for. Something about the gesture triggers Valencia’s memory, sending a rush of affection through her that warms the tone of her voice. “Rebecca Bunch? Oh my god, your hair!” Rebecca’s hair really is different, neat and smooth even though she’s clearly still a klutz. She must have finally learned about conditioner.

“Oh my gosh! Valencia Perez! Appearing out of nowhere after what, I mean, ten years? Wow!” Rebecca’s voice is really high, the way it used to get when she was nervous. But she’s smiling like she’s really happy to see Valencia.

“Wow!” Valencia echoes. She’s happy to see Rebecca, too, but she tries to hold back her own excitement. She trusted Rebecca at camp, but it’s been a long time. People change.

“Oh my god, this is weird, right?” Rebecca says, still smiling. “This is, this is so weird.” And yeah, it is. They haven’t been in touch in years; Valencia didn’t even know Rebecca was in New York, though maybe she could have guessed. 

“Yeah. I haven’t seen you since… you didn’t come back to camp the next summer.” Valencia doesn’t mention that she thinks she lost Rebecca before that, when her letter about getting back together with Josh didn’t get a reply for weeks, and the reply it did get was brief and awkward, nothing like the chatty letters Rebecca had been sending since a week after they’d gotten home from camp. She shakes the thought out of her head, taking a deep breath to re-center. 

“Oh, yeah.” Rebecca looks embarrassed. “My mom made me do mock trial, and then I did it the next summer, so yeah…”

Clearly Valencia’s going to need to be the one to get this conversation back on track. “Anyway, it’s so great to see you! Even though it’s been so long, I’d practically forgotten that summer.” She hasn’t, but it would be embarrassing to admit that if Rebecca has. She adds, “I’m sure you have too.”

“No, I remember some. I remember all of it, yeah, I remember all of it, yeah. Of course I do!” Rebecca’s laughing awkwardly, but her face looks open again, and friendly. “Um, so, what? You live in New York! You’re a dancer? God, I’m jealous!”

“Don’t be.” Valencia makes a face. “I’ve been trying, but really I’m just teaching yoga.”

“Yoga’s cool, I like yoga. Downward dog, more like upward butt, am I right?” Rebecca laughs at her own joke, and Valencia smiles reluctantly. “Dude, we should, we should hang out!”

“Actually, I’m moving back home,” Valencia says apologetically, although she’s secretly a little torn. Rebecca’s total inability to hide her feelings and excitement about Valencia is a breath of fresh air, but this has already been a more honest conversation than she’s had in New York, and it’s kind of wearing her out.

“Oh, moving.” Rebecca looks disappointed, like this is a deep personal problem for her, even though she and Valencia haven’t spoken in years.

“Yeah, I kind of hate the subway, and having roommates, and how New York smells.” Valencia makes a face, as her own words remind her that this particular sidewalk smells like a mixture of gasoline, beer, and pee. “And being around people who are truly happy with themselves is really good for my mindfulness practice. At home, even the people with super pathetic lives are happy. It’s cute.” 

“Happy.” Rebecca stand still for awhile, looking more thoughtful than really seems warranted. “Where are you from again?”

“West Covina, California.” Valencia wonders why she didn’t just say LA. She always says LA. Kate thinks she grew up in Echo Park, and Kate has known her since she moved to New York.

“West Covina, I remember that. It’s near the beach, right?”

“Yeah, only four hours. Two if there’s no traffic, so, you know, never. Anyway, uh, take care?” 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get a drink! Oh god, of course, you just said, you’re moving, right we can’t.” Rebecca is babbling, so Valencia interrupts her as a general favor to humanity. 

“I think, yeah, I’m working every night, actually. You could stop by the studio, though, or call me if you ever make it out to West Covina.” She hands Rebecca a card with the name of the studio on one side and her own contact information on the other. “It’ll still work after I move; they have us use our personal info so we can make a genuine connection with the students.” Valencia makes a face, like, you know how uninterested I am in that, and Rebecca smiles, like she can imagine exactly how little Valencia would want her yoga students calling her. Which is accurate; Valencia screens her calls aggressively. “Okay? See you around.”

“Bye,” says Rebecca, as Valencia walks away.  A few moments later, as if she’s suddenly realized that the conversation’s over and isn’t really okay with that, Valencia hears her yell, “So weird, right? Right?” Valencia smiles at the thought that Rebecca is obviously just as big a dork as she always was. 

Valencia reverts into automatic commute mode as she enters the subway station. She’s waiting for the same train to the yoga studio she catches every day, whether she’s been auditioning or is just transferring on her way from Queens. She fixes a frown on her face – but not too much of a frown; that just invites guys who want to cheer her up, which is not cheering – and automatically keeps the bubble of empty space around herself as large as she can, but other than that, she’s free to let her mind wander.  She finds it drifting back to camp. This would be pathetic if anyone had to know, but they don’t, so she lets herself go there, just for the train ride.

* * * 

Valencia’s lying awake, listening to the camper above her snoring and trying not to think about camp social life. Instead she’s imagining performing her dance solo from the talent show scene for Josh, even though she probably never will. It’s a leftover fantasy that she should root out now that they’ve broken up, but it’s still her best trick for falling asleep, so she hasn’t. She imagines that she’d dance just for him down at the boardwalk late at night, one of these times that Josh talks her into driving four hours to the beach with his friends for a bonfire. They’d sneak away to do it, and everyone would think they’re making out, but it would be worth it not to have to put up with the sarcastic comments Greg makes every time anyone shows genuine enthusiasm about something. It’s sad, really, but that’s not a reason to open yourself up to it. Valencia has a special ice queen act that she practices just for Greg, though it’s useful at other times too. 

Valencia’s reverie is disrupted by an awkward-sounding thump from the other side of the cabin. She turns her head to the side and opens her eyes, wondering who’s going out to meet up with a boy and whether it’s worth ratting on her. But it’s Rebecca with the weird hair and big boobs, and Valencia doesn’t think she actually has a guy she’s been meeting up with. She’s certainly not going around making nauseating doodles of anyone’s name, which Valencia’s sure she would be if there were anyone in particular; she looks like the type, but Valencia’s seen the inside of her notebooks, and it’s all quotes from teachers and copied-out sections of monologues and scenes Rebecca’s working on. Maybe Valencia’s judged her wrong, or maybe she’s going outside for something more interesting than boys. Maybe she wouldn’t mind if Valencia joined her; apart from the weird staring, Valencia hasn’t caught her doing anything mean yet. It wouldn’t suck to make a friend. 

Valencia eases herself out of bed, shifting her weight slowly to avoid squeaks, the way she does at home when she wants something to eat in the middle of the night and doesn’t want to hear from her mother about what it ought to be. She grabs a sweatshirt in case it’s cold outside and picks up her shoes in her other hand. She takes a few steps to the door, pulls it open, and stops dead in her tracks. This has been a big mistake. Rebecca isn’t doing something fun, not at all. She’s having feelings. Visible, sad-looking feelings. As Valencia’s considering whether to flee (she has enough sad feelings herself, thanks, and pushing them down has always worked in the past), Rebecca looks up. Great. Now she can’t even make a silent exit and pretend she was never here in the first place.

Valencia steps the rest of the way through the cabin door and closes it carefully. She sets her shoes and sweatshirt down in a pile and sits next to Rebecca on the cabin steps. Rebecca leans against her, takes a deep breath, and continues sobbing, so Valencia rolls her eyes (drama camp has so much drama!) and cautiously puts an arm around her. Then she looks out at the camp, since she has nothing else going on. The trees are dark, as are all the buildings. It seems like a safety hazard not to have streetlights, but then Valencia looks up past the trees, and sees more stars than are even conceivable in the LA area. There’s no horizon glow here to blot them out, and tonight there’s no moon and no clouds either. Just the kind of stars that people sing songs about and Valencia’s freshman English teacher spent fifteen minutes pointlessly trying to describe in order to get them to properly appreciate some dumb poem. 

Eventually Rebecca shifts her weight back off Valencia’s shoulder and takes a deep breath. Valencia realizes that she’s been quieter now for awhile, and wonders if there’s something she should say, something normal people do in this kind of situation. 

“You…  you won’t tell anyone about this, will you? I mean, I’m already pathetic enough, I don’t need people thinking I’m homesick or something. I’m not homesick, actually, I really don’t want to go home at all. That’s the problem.”

“I would never!” says Valencia, trying to sound like that’s because of Girl Power and not because no one here really talks to her, and  _ she’s _ not pathetic enough to try to buy their friendship by selling Rebecca out.

“Thanks. I just, I got a letter from my mom? And I just can’t. I can’t deal with her right now. It’s like nothing I do is good enough.” Rebecca takes another breath, like she’s going to continue talking, but it turns instead into another sob and she buries her face in Valencia’s shoulder again. Valencia pats her back awkwardly. “I get all A’s. I won the mock trial tournament, like, practically single-handedly, after Audra got sick. But is it good enough? No, I’m still not preparing for my future, in her opinion. I had to tell my dad I was going to kill myself to get her to let me come here.” 

“That sucks. My mom would be so happy if I got all A’s. My father probably wouldn’t care, though, ever since I started looking like this all he wants to talk about is how important it is not to be alone with boys. It’s like I’m not a person anymore. I can’t wait to leave West Covina and get out of that house.”

“Parents are the worst. My dad’s okay, except he left when I was eleven. Who does that to a kid?”

Valencia doesn’t know what to say to that, and she’s getting chilly, so she just disentangles herself and pulls on her sweatshirt. Who  _ would _ do that to a kid? Especially a kid like Rebecca probably was; she’s awkward, but in a way that was probably adorable when she was little. And anyone could see that she’s desperate for affection; for instance, now that Valencia’s sitting still again, Rebecca’s holding her hand, like a little kid. Normally Valencia’s not much for touching, but it’s kind of cute, so she’s allowing it. Actually, it’s also pretty nice; it feels good to have some human contact that isn’t strictly in a dance context.

“Want to know a secret? I don’t even want to be a lawyer, I just like mock trial because it’s like acting. I want to be a Broadway star when I grow up. Like Idina Menzel. I mean, you could be like Idina Menzel, but I’m not right, physically. But the general idea, that’s what I want to be. I love being on stage. It’s like magic.”

“I don’t think that’s a real secret," says Valencia. "Everyone here is like that.”

“No, I mean it’s. Like other people here, they’re in plays at school, and they have friends they go see Rent with, and for me, at home, this is a total secret. I just told my dad I thought it would be a good way to decompress, like if I got any more stressed out I’d kill myself, not even that I cared about the theater aspect, because what if he told Naomi and then she knew and then she’d be watching and I’d never get to do it because it would conflict with me becoming a lawyer if I had any other plan.”

“Okay, I get it. Like, who you are here is the secret.” Valencia scoots off the step to lie on the ground in front of the cabin. She’s getting sleepy.

“Yeah. Like I’m a whole secret person, right now. When I go home, I have to go undercover.” Rebecca follows. She’s lying with her whole side pressed against Valencia now, and Valencia stiffens for a moment, automatically bracing herself for things to get handsy, because everyone gets handsy if she lets them get close enough, even other girls. But Rebecca’s not doing anything, just lying flat on her back with her hands on her stomach.

“Okay, I have one too. At home, they know I want to be a dancer. Otherwise I couldn’t train, and for a dancer, you have to get into it young. But at home, my name is Maria. Valencia’s my mother’s maiden name, but I think Maria Perez is too generic for a dancer, so I told everyone here I’m Valencia. Don’t tell.”

“No way! That’s so cool! I should have a stage name too, Rebecca Bunch totally sounds like a lawyer.”

“Yeah, you could be… what’s your middle name?” 

“Nora.” 

“Nora’s nice. Nora Bunch?”

“That’s better, but still kind of cute. Like, I couldn’t play the sexy villain with that name.”

“You couldn’t play the sexy villain anyway,” Valencia says automatically, but it’s missing some of the heat she’d usually use. “And you are cute. It has to be a name for you as an actress, not some totally other person.”

“Nora Bunch. Okay, it’s a deal.”

They’re silent for awhile. Valencia’s thinking about the stars again, trying to remember the poem from that English class. She thinks Rebecca would like it. But it keeps slipping away from her, and she can feel Rebecca’s breath getting slower and more even next to her. She realizes that they’re falling asleep and sits up. “Come on Nora, time to go in.”

“What, huh? Oh, yeah. Yeah, good idea. But you’ve still got to call me Rebecca, Nora’s for later.”

“Fine, whatever. Just get up already, I’m freezing.” Valencia smiles against her will, then realizes it’s too dark for Rebecca to see her doing it, and smiles on purpose. As she gets into her bunk, she notices her right side still feels warmer than the rest of her. It’s nice.

* * * 

On her way home to Queens after her last yoga class of the night, Valencia finds herself thinking about Rebecca again: the way she looked excited but also sort of sad today, the way she was always almost as unpopular with the other girls as Valencia, but somehow genuinely friendly to them anyway, the way she used to light up when she practiced her weird creepy monologue. Valencia wonders whether she’s okay, whether she has someone like Josh to rely on. Probably she does, probably actually someone like Josh but more successful. Rebecca was always a nerd, but now nerds are cool. And she was special, Valencia thinks; not nerdy because she was boring or an especially trollish basement-dweller of a person, but because she was genuinely enthusiastic about a lot of stuff. If you didn’t know her, that was weird, but if you did it was nice. Like a light was on. And if she was enthusiastic about you, then it was really nice. Like not just one light, but a whole theater full.

* * * 

On the last night of camp, Valencia lies in bed listening to the rustling of campers turn into deep sleeping breaths, but tonight she’s not trying to fall asleep, just waiting for everyone else to. Well, not quite everyone, though she wouldn’t be surprised if Rebecca did fall asleep. She’s not nearly as good at secret plans as she thinks she is. Valencia smiles, because she likes the excuse that gives her to boss her friend around. She loves to be in charge, and no one else ever know the right way to do things anyway.

Once she starts hearing snores and stops hearing restless shuffling, Valencia carefully drops herself out of bed, making just enough fuss and noise rummaging through her belongings to give anyone who’s awake a chance to look at her and reveal themselves before the next stage of the plan. The only one who looks up is Rebecca, her eyes wide with excitement. She slips out of bed a little more noisily than Valencia did, even though she’s miming being a ninja with deadly and absurd seriousness. Valencia is tempted to ruffle her hair just to mess with her act, but restrains herself. To do so would risk – would practically guarantee – a startled squeak from Rebecca, and Valencia doesn’t want to wake the counselor tonight. Tonight, she wants to dance.

They slip out of the cabin and start down the path to the dance studio, relaxing a little once the door is closed. They still have to be quiet, but they don’t have to be absolutely silent outside. Still, they don’t talk yet; both of them know where they’re going, and Valencia is too full of anticipation to talk. Rebecca’s silence is uncharacteristic, but Valencia’s not ready to worry about it yet. If there’s no explosion of words by the time they start back to the cabin, then she’ll push. Right now, she’s busy rehearsing in her head.

As they near the studio, Rebecca runs ahead, bouncing like a puppy who’s just been let out the door. When Valencia turns the corner at the end of the path and steps out of the trees, though, Rebecca’s looking at the ground, rubbing one toe in the dirt.

“I’m sorry. This was a stupid idea. You’re right. I’m no good at plans. I was so excited, I thought… It’s locked, I should have said. We could go steal the key? I don’t know who has the keys, actually, do you? Or we could break –“

“Rebecca!” Valencia interrupts her. “We are not breaking in.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Sorry. I’m so –” Rebecca looks like she’s trying to shrink herself. Valencia can see that she’s about one sentence away from a flood of tears. Her emotions are always so close to the surface, like she thinks that acting is all about the big dramatic scenes and she needs as much practice as she can get. It makes Valencia want to give her a hug, and also shake her. She goes with the hug option, though, and Rebecca clings on like she’s not planning to move again tonight.

“Calm down. The studio is locked, we’ll go somewhere else.” Valencia searches her mind for a place they could go without her having to roll around in literal dirt. She shouldn’t have choreographed the part with lying on the ground. She shouldn’t have spent so much time mentally rehearsing; then she’d have a backup already planned. “We’ll go to the lake. I can dance on the pier. It’s wood, it’s impossible to lock up, it will work.” She’ll have to make some adjustments to the choreography since she can’t use the full depth of the studio floor, but she can do that. She disengages Rebecca from the hug and takes her hand as she starts toward the lake, too busy running through changes in her head to look back at her friend.

By the time they get to the lake, Valencia feels ready. Rebecca’s recovered from the defeat of the locked studio, and she’s smiling as she goes to sit on the shore where Valencia points. Valencia slips off her shoes and walks out on the pier, then freezes. The music! 

“We don’t have any music.” Valencia says, hoping she’s loud enough for Rebecca to hear, but not loud enough for anyone else who might be up. She’d been counting on the studio sound system, and now she has nothing. She’s brought Rebecca all the way out here, and her plan won’t even work.

“We don’t have, oh, no, you’re right. Um, so, uh, I could go back to the cabin and get Jennifer’s boombox?”

“No,” Valencia says. “You’d wake her up for sure.” 

“We could, we could both go? What’s your music, could I sing it?”

“No, never mind, it’s okay. We should go back and sleep anyway. Not sleeping gives you wrinkles.” Valencia sits down on the pier. She doesn’t want to give up, but they really shouldn’t be out that much longer. They have their big show tomorrow, and then they go home. It’s going to be hell if they don’t sleep. She’s not really looking forward to most of the day as it is, although performing will be good.

“Hey, don’t give up.” Valencia feels Rebecca plop down next to her and throw an arm around her shoulders. “I want to see your dance. And I know you don’t always have music. When you’re practicing? You count, right?”

Valencia nods. “It won’t be the same, though.”

“It will be great.” Rebecca pulls her into a hug, and Valencia hugs back. She could just stay here. Here is good. Rebecca doesn’t seem to mind, either. But eventually Valencia takes a deep breath and pulls back. 

“Okay, but it’s totally better with the music. I’m only doing this now because it’s the last chance.”

Rebecca grins. “That’s my girl! Oh, god, what am I, your mom? I mean, go you! I’ll go back to my box seat.” She walks off the pier, miming something, maybe an opera cape. Whatever. 

Valencia concentrates on finding the right place to start the dance, counting under her breath to set a rhythm she won’t have to think to maintain. When Rebecca sits down and salutes – Rebecca is so weird – Valencia counts through one more repeat, and then she starts to dance.

Even though she has no music and is dancing on the narrow, slightly uneven pier, it feels good. She doesn’t stumble, just gracefully removes a revolution or two from her spins and shortens her steps when she needs to. Every time Rebecca comes in her field of vision, the look on her face in the moonlight tells Valencia that she’s impressed. Maybe more than that; she’s absorbed, fascinated. It makes Valencia feel even better, like she could fly if she needed to. Of course she doesn’t try, just pushes a little harder into her split leaps, but it’s a good feeling. An amazing feeling.

Valencia finishes her dance back where she started almost exactly and bows, though she hadn’t planned to. Rebecca jumps to her feet and applauds, and for a moment Valencia thinks she’s being mocked, but the look on Rebecca’s face hasn’t changed. She’s deadly serious right now. Valencia smiles back at her. That was great. That was… just what she wanted it to be like dancing for Josh, which probably isn’t what dancing for Josh would really be like. Really Hector and White Josh and Greg would tag along, and… and she doesn’t need to get into that right now. Because Rebecca’s running over to her, and pulling her back off the pier, saying, “That was amazing! You were so great! You’re so beautiful! When you dance, I mean. Your dancing is beautiful. And the lake, and the moon. It was like, like, magical. Wasn’t it great? Aren’t you glad we came out here?”

Valencia looks up from pulling on her shoes. “Yeah, I am. You were… you were great too, for making me stay. Thank you. I… I liked that.”

“Oh my gosh, you are so welcome!” Rebecca’s still bouncing on her toes with excitement as they start back to the rest of camp. 

* * * 

Some jerk jostles into Valencia while she’s trying to change trains at 34th Street and won’t stop apologizing, pulling Valencia right out of her thoughts. But he doesn’t follow her onto the N train, and she finds a seat that isn’t too disgusting and folds herself into it. She’s replaying her interaction with Rebecca in her mind, wondering why she didn’t offer to meet up some evening; it would be easy enough to get Kate or somebody to take over her classes. Maybe it’s Rebecca’s obvious success, compared to Valencia’s clear failure. They hadn’t even discussed it, but even red from running to catch Valencia, Rebecca had had the well-groomed appearance of a successful New Yorker. Not an actor, probably. An actor should never be that out of shape. But there’s no reason not to believe she’s the high-powered lawyer she probably started planning to be when she stopped writing to Valencia. She probably doesn’t have any trouble affording to live in New York, can have a whole apartment to herself. Probably nothing Valencia said even made sense to her.

God, how embarrassing that she told Rebecca she’s looking forward to getting back to West Covina. Her high school self would be so disappointed in her. But she has other dreams now, like a family with Josh, who may not be exciting or ambitious, but who has certainly proven himself reliable. And he’ll be great with kids; he’s like a big kid himself. Except that means he’ll be the fun parent, and Valencia will inevitably be the mean parent. She frowns. Her fantasy of family life is suddenly a lot less fantastic looking.

Valencia drifts into a different fantasy, one where instead of sharing a 2 bedroom in Queens with three other aspiring dancers, she lives in a quiet Manhattan apartment with Rebecca. She could still teach yoga, but with a shorter commute, she’d have more time to prepare for auditions. Maybe she’d make it through one and get to do some modern dance, or even just some commercial dance, on the side. In her fantasy she doesn’t feel the pull back to West Covina that she’s been refusing to call homesickness since she moved to New York. Rebecca isn’t Josh, but she’d be an anchor for Valencia in her own way, tiny and frantic instead of laid-back and muscular. Valencia’s self-aware enough now to know that part of the pull she’d felt towards Rebecca at camp was romantic, even sexual; maybe Rebecca would even feel the same way. Maybe they’d go from being friends and roommates to something more, something permanent even. With Rebecca, in New York, even Valencia doesn’t know who she could grow to be, but she thinks she would be more, somehow, than she could be in California. As the train pulls out of the tunnel, Valencia feels a wave of regret that she won’t get to take even a tentative step towards this alternate future. She swallows it down, reminding herself of her goals: her own studio, marriage, children. They might not be everything she ever wanted, but she’s sure she can have them, and no one gets everything they want. 

* * * 

Three weeks later, back in West Covina, Valencia runs into Rebecca in the freezer aisle. She’s rumpled and hidden in a huge sweater, and maybe it’s just the humidity condensing in front of the door Josh is holding open as he considers their ice cream options, but it seems to Valencia like Rebecca makes the dingy grocery store glow. But Josh closes the door, and as he says, “Hey, V, you okay? Did you want vanilla or butter almond?” Valencia realizes that Rebecca doesn’t belong here, has never belonged here. 

“Honey, you know I’m not eating dairy this month. Get whatever you want.” Valencia pastes a smile on her face. She wants Josh out of the way, right now, and she needs it to happen without him getting confused and needing an explanation. “Why don’t you go help Greg with the beer? You know he buys those microbrews no one else wants to drink…”

“Oh, yeah, good idea! I’ll be right back!” Josh bounds away like a golden retriever. 

Valencia smiles after him, then turns back to look at Rebecca. “I don’t understand,” she hisses, keeping her voice down so none of Josh’s idiot friends overhears. “What are you doing here?”

Rebecca furrows her brow, and Valencia feels a flood of guilt for putting that sad look on her face. “I – I missed you? I mean, you said, I mean, no one likes New York? You know? So I, I got a job here and I thought, we could, like at camp? We could be friends?”

Valencia takes a sigh of relief. Friends, right. At camp they were just friends.  _ Just friends  _ means there’s no choice to make, not now, and she didn’t have to get rid of Josh after all. Maybe it’s that Rebecca’s big dramatic cross-country appearance seems like something from a romantic comedy, but for a moment Valencia had let herself get swept up in her feelings and forgotten that. Everything’s fine for now, and if she’s wondering whether Rebecca’s here because she felt the same way Valencia did all those years ago, and what could happen between them if she did, well, no one needs to know. She has plenty of time to deal with that later. It’s not like Josh has been taking her hints about a wedding. She’s not locked into anything yet.

“That’s great! That’s so, so great!” Valencia takes Rebecca’s hand. “Let me introduce you to everyone.”


End file.
